


A Friend In Need

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Rush (2013)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Outing, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, References to Drug Use, unexpected!naked!James
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: When Niki is publicly outed in a kiss-and-tell James comes to his rescue, but finds himself surprisingly intrigued by this unsuspected side to his friend. When Niki is injured in a horrific crash shortly afterwards, James has to face the fact he may have feelings for him - but being James he can’t just tell him so, and Niki is apparently incapable of taking a hint.





	A Friend In Need

April, 1976.

"Have you seen the papers?" 

James frowned, trying to work out what the excitable voice on the other end of the phone was on about. It was unmistakeably Bubbles Horsley, but he was laughing so hard James could hardly make out what he was saying.

"No. I was just on my way out - to the airport." James was starting to wish he hadn't picked up, knowing Bubbles could ramble on for hours and he was already running late for his flight. "What's up?"

"Oh, I don't want to spoil the surprise," Bubbles cackled. "Go and pick one up - the Express has it. Put it this way, your title hopes have never looked better. Trust me, Lauda's fucked." 

"What? What's happened?" James demanded, but Bubbles had rung off. Swearing loudly, James realised he didn't have time to call him back. 

He ruminated on the cryptic message all the way to Heathrow, wondering what the hell Horsley had meant. Had something happened to Niki? The possibility was an uneasy weight in the pit of his stomach, tempered only by the assumption that it couldn't be anything too awful, given Horsley's laughter. Maybe something like a busted ankle, James theorised. Bad enough to put him out of action, while not actually endangering his life. 

Checking in, James passed a newsagent stand and grabbed a paper but given his last minute timing he didn't have time to open it until he was on the plane. There was nothing on the front or the rear sports page. He finally found it on page 4, a double-width column headed by two photographs, one of Niki and the other a man he didn't recognise.

He had to read the headline three times before the significance sank in. _F1 scandal - World Champion Niki Lauda named in homosexual kiss and tell._ The man in the second photo, Tomas Gantreich, had apparently sold a story to an Austrian tabloid along the lines of "my night of passion with Niki". This had caused a shitstorm of epic proportions overnight, and been picked up gleefully by the British press who were supporting Hunt's own fight for the title.

Scanning the article in bemusement, James noted that there was no comment from Niki himself, who’d apparently proved unreachable. Niki didn't photograph well at the best of times and they'd used an unfortunate picture of him, presumably deliberately – an old snap from a pit lane somewhere, with Niki looking into the sun and consequently frowning and squinting and looking generally irritable. 

James studied the second photo, one that had clearly been carefully posed for a professional photographer. He decided immediately he didn't like Tomas, his eyes were too far apart and he had an untrustworthy chin. He couldn't fathom the claims – it had to be some kind of smear campaign, surely. 

The paper hadn't printed the more lurid details of the night in question, but it was pretty clear what was being alleged. James shook his head. He'd known Niki for several years, had even shared a flat with the man briefly, and he'd never had an inkling he might have those kind of tendencies. It had to be made up, but in which case why wasn't Niki denying it?

James reached the drivers’ hotel in Madrid to find the place a seething mass of press and assorted hangers on. He quickly established two things; that the Lauda news was the only thing anybody was talking about, and that Niki wasn't actually staying at the hotel with the others, but had rented a house on the outskirts. Speculation was rife regarding the claims with opinion divided roughly fifty-fifty as to where there was any truth to them or not.

James checked in and dumped his bags, hearing at the desk that Regazzoni had already punched one reporter through a fence for saying things about Niki. 

Seeking him out in the bar James shook his hand, and having finally convinced Clay that he didn't believe a word of it either, managed to coax Niki's address out of him and jumped straight into a cab.

The car dropped him off in a terrace of tall, stuccoed townhouses, and James could immediately tell which one was Niki’s by the gaggle of reporters camped out on the doorstep.

They scattered warily at his angry approach, then converged again as soon as they recognised him, firing questions like stones until he rounded on them.

"Right, fuck off the lot of you, or I'm going to start with cameras, move on to noses, then keep going until there's nothing left to break. Are we clear?"

They retreated to a safe distance, the ones that didn't speak English being herded along by their colleagues. James knocked on the door. There was no answer, although given the gathering of vultures he could see why.

He banged again, more loudly. "Niki! It's James, open the bloody door."

After a moment it cracked open and James promptly shoved his way inside. Niki slammed the door again behind him, then turned to look at James with such a tightly defiant expression that James was floored. Up to now he hadn't believed a word of it, but for the first time he wondered.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded.

Niki looked away. "You haven't seen the papers?"

"Of course I've seen them."

Niki pressed his lips together, refusing to meet James' eyes. "Then you already know. Why did you come here in that case?"

"My God. It's actually true?" James breathed, reading the answer in Niki's face. "You're - ?"

Niki's eyes briefly met his own before flicking away again. He gave a short, curt nod. "Yes."

James stared at him speechlessly, until it finally dawned on him that the reason Niki was so silent and tense was because he was fully expecting James to react with revulsion.

"For God's sake Niki. Why didn't you tell me, you twat?" James unexpectedly yanked Niki into a hug. 

"I - " Niki stuttered, cautiously returning the embrace with a wary disbelief. "I didn't think - "

"What? That I'd understand?" James pulled back and looked at him. "How long have we known each other? I mean what difference does it make, I know plenty of que– men like that. British entertainment industry’s full of ‘em."

Niki shook his head. "It wasn't you James," he said quietly, despite the fact he'd been privately and miserably convinced that as soon as James found out he'd want nothing more to do with him. "I couldn't tell anyone. If it had got out it would have been the end of my career. As you can see."

"What are you talking about?" James stared at him, and Niki gave a helpless shrug.

"Ferrari have been trying to contact me. So far I haven't taken their calls, but I can only avoid it so long. I am due on the track tomorrow, and currently I don't even know if they will let me drive."

"You've got a contract. They can't just kick you out," James protested, horrified.

"Want to bet? It's Ferrari James, can you you really see them endorsing me after this? Even if they have to buy me out just to get rid of me."

"Hypocritical bunch of oily Italian bum-bandits," James growled, then looked embarrassed. "I mean - I don't mean - oh fucking hell."

Niki half-smiled, touched by James even trying to modulate his language. "I'm under no illusions. Ferrari - Marlboro - they won't touch me after this."

"But they'd be mad to drop you. You’re the hottest property on the track. Well, other than me, obviously,” James added, trying to raise a smile. “Look, even if the rest of the season’s a bust one of the other teams'll snap you up. Let's face it, British team sports are practically founded on buggery and the lash.”

Niki managed a thin smile. “In private perhaps. But to publicly promote an openly homosexual driver? It would be commercial suicide. Even I can see that.”

James’ response was drowned out by a sudden hammering on the front door and a renewed onslaught of shouted questions from the gathered press. None of it was remotely complimentary, and James took one look at Niki’s face and marched across the hall.

He threw the door open and stepped outside. There followed the unmistakeable smack of a fist hitting flesh, then the tinkle of broken glass and James came back in again, locking the door behind him.

“Right, that should keep the bastards away for a bit. I did warn them.”

Niki stared at him with a mixture of horror and admiration. “You realise tomorrow’s headlines will now read ‘Hunt and Lauda in secret love nest’?” 

“Let ‘em. I’ll sue their fucking arses off,” James growled. “Right, come on Niki, got anything to drink in this place? I’m parched.”

Niki lead him upstairs to a first floor parlour, looking out over a pleasantly green garden at the back of the house where they could no longer hear the men in the street. He poured James a stiff drink, and James noticed that Niki already had one on the go. It wasn’t like Niki to drink before a race, even practice, and he finally realised just how worried he was underneath that carefully blank exterior.

In the corner of the room a telephone shrilled, and Niki jumped so violently he nearly threw James’ drink all over him. Rather than answer it he just stared fixedly at the thing until it stopped ringing.

James finally pried his glass out of Niki’s fingers and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Buck up Lauda, I’ve never seen you go to pieces like this before.”

Niki shook his head slowly. “What can I do? I’m finished.”

“Bollocks. Come on, we can fix this.” James thought fast. “Have you actually admitted anything?”

“No. I’ve spoken to no-one. I was already on my way out of the country when the story broke, and I arranged to come here rather than to a hotel.”

James suddenly had an image of Niki shut up here alone, avoiding the phone and besieged by the press, and had to resist the urge to hug him again. 

“Right. Good. That makes it easier. First step, deny everything. Just bluff it out. Say you’ve not commented previously ‘cause it wasn’t worth your notice, that it’s all laughably untrue.”

“But they have Tomas’ story - ” Niki protested.

“We can sort him out,” James said grimly. “You leave him to me. How did it happen anyway, who is the guy?” He winced. “You’re not in love with him or anything inconvenient like that are you?”

Niki shook his head, looking a little shamefaced. “No. He is just – someone I met. It was only one night. That doesn’t make me look good, does it?”

James laughed. “This is me you’re talking to Niki. You don’t have to convince me of the joys of casual sex.” He grinned, and for the first time Niki summoned a more convincing smile in return, although it quickly faded.

“So, are there any others that are likely to crawl out of the woodwork?” James asked practically. “Jump on the bandwagon, so to speak? Forewarned is forearmed and all that.”

Niki shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose. There have been others, of course. Normally you rely on the fact that nobody wants to be outed any more than you do. I assume this time the lure of the money offered was too much. At least – I hope it was a decision made afterwards,” Niki added, looking a little forlorn. “And that it wasn’t – that he didn’t –”

James decided there and then that if it turned out Tomas bastard Gantreich had seduced Niki for the express purpose of selling his story, he, James, was going to run him over.

“Can I use your phone?”

Niki looked bewildered. “Yes, of course. Who are you calling?”

“Alex.”

“Lord Hesketh?” Niki looked more confused than ever. “Why?”

“You don’t have to have friends in low places to know people with a lot of guns,” James smirked. “The British aristocracy works just as well.”

“You’re surely not going to shoot him?” 

James laughed, delighted that Niki apparently believed him capable of it. Although the way he was feeling right now, it was a tempting thought. 

“No. I’m going to invite the fame-hungry little toerag on a nice day out with a bunch of famous titles, on the pretext of getting him to dish the dirt on my biggest rival. And then, once I’ve got him alone on a nice deserted grouse moor, I’m going to put the fear of God into him,” James said grimly. “Make him understand that it’s crucial to his continued custody of his kneecaps that he issues a public retraction.”

Niki looked stunned, but still dubious. “I’m not sure that will be enough. People will still believe it.”

“And.” James held up a finger to show he wasn’t finished. “Then I’m going to call another friend of mine. Jojo. Lovely girl. You’ll be seeing a lot of her in the near future. She, I am prepared to assure you, will swear blind to whoever’s listening that she was with you on the night in question. And give a glowing account of your prowess to boot.” James frowned. “Maybe not too glowing,” he amended. “We want them to buy it after all.”

Niki looked indignant at that and James grinned at him, glad to have driven the look of preoccupied sadness from his face.

“The best part is, you won’t even have to sleep with her.” James stopped again, and looked puzzled. “Can I ask a question?”

“You do all this for me, you can ask me anything.”

“It’s not really a question, I suppose. It’s just – you’ve slept with women. I know you have.”

Niki shrugged. “What does that prove?” he said simply.

“Well – nothing, I suppose.”

“There have been a few, yes. Enough to – divert attention,” Niki said carefully. “If there had been none, people would have talked before this. It’s not so bad. Just – not what I prefer.” He looked awkward, and James cleared his throat.

“Right. Okay then.” He finished his drink, and waggled his empty glass at Niki as he walked towards the telephone. “Fill her up, there’s a good chap, and I’ll get started.”

“Why are you doing this?” Niki asked suddenly. “I mean – not that I’m not grateful, but – you have the chance to get me out of your hair for good.”

James frowned. “It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be _fair_. Besides, you’re my friend Niki. I’m not about to turn my back on you.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth his eyes went wide as he realised what he’d just said. “I mean – I didn’t mean it like that – oh, shit, that came out wrong.” He started laughing helplessly, and after a second so did Niki.

“Thank you,” Niki said sincerely, when they’d both recovered themselves. “For standing by me. And for giving me the first laugh I’ve had in days.”

James nodded. “We’ll fix this Niki,” he repeated. “It’ll be okay.”

“Even if it isn’t. To know that one person at least still has my back? That’s more than I dared hope for,” Niki said quietly. “Especially you.”

“I’m hardly the only one,” James protested. “Loads of people were sticking up for you back at the hotel. Clay even punched someone for badmouthing you.”

“And these people,” Niki said, “they believed what had been written, and were still supporting me? Or they assumed it to be lies, and thought they were defending my honour?”

James stared at him uncomfortably, realising Niki was right. Of those that had taken the story at face value, and it had been a lot – not one had had anything positive to say about the allegations.

Niki nodded, the stricken look on James’ face confirming his suspicions. “Do you think if I told Clay that it was all true – that I like men – do you think he would still support me then?” Niki asked him gently. 

“Oh, God Niki. It’s so unfair!” 

“It’s the way the world is,” Niki said without rancour. “It has been this way my whole life. I always knew there was a chance it would all come to an end like this.”

“We won’t let it,” James said firmly. “You, er – might want to be a bit more choosy about who you hook up with in future though.”

“There won’t be anyone.” Niki went to refill their drinks, leaving James to stare in surprise at his back. “I cannot take the risk.”

“What? But you can’t just – not sleep with anyone ever,” James objected, sounding so appalled by the idea that Niki smiled. 

“It is not such a lot that I’m giving up,” he conceded. “I’m not like you. I can live without it.”

“It’s not just sex though, is it?” James persisted, taking the proffered glass with a nod of thanks. “It’s – company, and all sorts. Sharing things. You can’t just cut all that out.”

“I shall have to. To continue racing? It is a decision that has to be made. One day I shall retire, and then, who knows. Maybe by then no-one will care. Or I will have made enough money that I don’t have to worry about being employable.” Niki shrugged. “Or I could go out there tomorrow and hit a wall, and all of this will become academic.”

James shuddered superstitiously. “God, don’t say things like that.” An awful thought seized him, and he grabbed Niki’s arm. “Tell me you wouldn’t - ?” He didn’t even want to say it out loud, but Niki took his meaning and to James’ relief immediately shook his head.

“On purpose? No. However bad things get, I know that’s not the answer. I don’t care what people say about me. I only care if it stops me from racing.”

Before James could pick up the phone it started ringing again, and they both stared at it. 

Niki glanced questioningly at James and he nodded encouragement. “Go for it.”

Making a face and visibly bracing himself, Niki answered it.

“Hallo? Yes, it’s me,” he said, automatically sticking to English as James was standing next to him. “Luca calm down. No of course it’s not true. How should I know? They print what they like. No, it’s bullshit.”

James only caught snatches of the rest of the conversation as Niki switched between Italian, English and German to make himself understood to someone whose less than fluent grasp of the latter two equalled Niki’s smattering of the first, and was clearly talking rapidly at him.

As he listened though, James felt an indefinable sadness at what Niki was doing. Despite the fact it had been James’ idea, and he was still convinced it was a good plan, to hear Niki stand there and deny what was obviously a key part of himself – it filled James with regret that it should be necessary. He considered how he’d feel, if he had to choose between sex and racing, and shuddered at the thought of it. 

When Niki hung up he looked drained but there was a new resolve in his eyes, and he nodded in response to James’ look of enquiry. 

“He believed me. I think. He’s going to sort things at Ferrari, prime the PR people, field the questions as best he can.” Niki looked uncertain. “I told him the problem will go away?” 

“It will.” James ruffled Niki’s hair as he stepped past him to pick up the phone. “Just you leave it to me.”

\--

The following few days were amongst the most trying of Niki’s life. He stuck doggedly and irritably to his story of denial, snapping at reporters who asked about anything other than motor racing and avoiding being seen in public as much as possible. For once his reputation for being uncommunicative came in handy, as otherwise it might have come across as too defensive.

There were two days to go before the race itself, and Niki discovered firstly that James was nowhere to be found with rumours circulating that he’d left the country again, and secondly that he’d himself mysteriously acquired a live-in girlfriend, the fêted Jojo.

He wasn’t at all surprised to find that she’d previously slept with James, but what did come as an unexpected bonus was the discovery she spoke reasonable German.

Jojo, as promised, turned out to be a far bigger hit with the members of the press than Niki was, being entirely willing to speak to them at length whilst wearing very little and displaying her assets with pride. She cheerfully rubbished the reports of Niki’s supposed indiscretion, vouched for the fact they’d been sleeping together for months, and didn’t so much as blink when some bright spark dug up an old picture of her with James.

“What can I say? I like fast men,” she’d purred, and oddly this turned out to be the thing that gave her claims the most veracity.

In private they got along surprisingly well. Niki had been relieved to find she understood the situation and didn’t expect to sleep with him, but he also found he was glad of the company, especially with James being away presumably doing God knew what with a shotgun somewhere. Niki half-expected to see that he’d been arrested, but on the night before the race James reappeared, looking smug.

“Sorted,” was all he’d say. “Wait and see.”

Sure enough, the papers the next morning carried a retraction from Tomas explaining that it had all been an invention and that he was very sorry for any embarrassment he’d caused Mr Lauda.

“How the hell did you manage it?” Niki hissed when they passed in the pits that morning, trusting their conversation would be drowned out by the roaring of engines all around them. 

“Don’t ask how the magician works his magic,” James grinned, pulling on his helmet. “Just be grateful that he does.”

“How many other people know?” Niki persisted. This was his main source of worry – there was no real love lost between himself and James’ old friends at Hesketh, and if they knew the damaging truth about him it could come back to bite him in the future. Not to mention the arse. 

James patted him on the cheek. “Stop worrying. Your secret’s safe. They’ll keep schtum, for my sake if not yours.” He winked. “Told ‘em I’d slept with you and all, and it was best for everybody if the story went away.”

Niki stared at James’ retreating back as he walked over to his car. He didn’t really believe James had told his friends that at all, but the fact he was happy to even say it made Niki suddenly ridiculously emotional. 

The race itself served to ground him again. It was bakingly hot, physically taxing, and demanded all his concentration, meaning that despite the ear-splitting roar of the engines he felt strangely at peace for the first time in over a week. There’d been a moment when he’d thought he’d never be allowed to sit in this car again, and to have made it was almost enough.

Almost. There was also the small matter of now trying to win the bloody thing, which at this point was a matter of personal pride. Championship points notwithstanding, after the battering he’d taken in the press it wouldn’t hurt his reputation any, either. 

In the event he came a hard-fought second, snapping at the heels of Hunt and just a fraction of a second slower. James put an arm round him on the podium, and as the battery of photographers snapped away Niki realised he’d done it on purpose, to set an example. 

Despite the fact news of Gantreich’s retraction had passed through the pitlane faster than a dose of salts, Niki didn’t think he’d imagined the fact several of the drivers were still giving him a wide berth. For James, widely regarded as the most notorious alpha male on the circuit to be publicly hugging him sent a louder message than any amount of statements to the newspaper.

The after-race press call was always Niki’s least favourite part of the entire proceedings, but he walked into it assuming that at least the question of his sexuality had gone away. He’d acquitted himself well in the race, and naively thought this would form the basis of questions from reporters who were supposed to be at least superficially interested in the sport. 

He was wrong. Possibly because this was the first time Niki had been in a situation where he was contractually obliged to answer the press since it all unfolded, question after question was solely aimed at the allegation and denial, until Niki, James, and Nilsson, who’d come third, were all visibly pissed off.

“This is ridiculous,” Niki snapped. “We are here to talk about the race, that is all. If you have no questions that are relevant then this is over. It is insulting to James, who won today and is being ignored, and insulting to me, who has to listen to this shit. The man has admitted he was lying, surely that is an end to it?”

“Mighty convenient, that retraction, don’t you think?” a voice shouted from the audience. Niki scanned the crowd in shock, listening uneasily to the murmur of agreement that followed it.

“Who said that? What are you talking about?”

“Get a nice fat payout from Ferrari did he?” called someone else. “Made him go away quietly?”

Niki’s first reaction was one of relief, that this was just idle speculation and nobody knew what James had actually done – but it was quickly overtaken by a sick sense of realisation that this wasn’t going to go away as easily as they’d imagined.

“That’s slander,” Niki said, but his throat was dry and it came out as a croak.

“Alright.” This was James who banged the table in front of him, making everyone jump and turn to look at him. “Here’s the thing. I didn’t want to say this, because it makes me look like a prick. But things have gone too far, and it needs to stop. The allegations about Niki are bollocks, and I know that, because I put the man up to it in the first place. It was supposed to be a prank, that’s all – a joke. Niki said I sleep with too many women, so I started a rumour he slept with men. I never meant it to get out of hand like this, and it’s not fair on him. So I’m saying here and now, it’s all crap.”

Niki stared down the table at him in sheer amazement, as the room broke out in uproar. 

“Can you prove it?” somebody shouted, clearly unwilling to let go of the most scandalous thing to liven up Formula 1 in ages.

James nodded slowly. “I think there’s a photo of me with Tomas, from when we planned it,” he agreed, knowing perfectly well he’d instructed Horsley to get a surreptitious shot of them together. “Will that do?”

“Niki, do you have anything to say to this?” came the next excitable query from the floor, and Niki had to think fast. If any word of what James had just said had been true, to be believable his reaction should logically be one of anger – but at the same time he didn’t want to get James into trouble. If he came across as too outraged, there was a very real risk of Ferrari or one of the sponsors suing James for defamation of character. He had to defuse this, not escalate it.

Once more Niki took refuge in a reputation for terse responses and conspicuous lack of emotion.

“James says it was a joke. I will never understand the British sense of humour,” he said flatly. “But at the same time, I am grateful for the British sense of fair play, that makes someone own up when things go wrong. Can we move on now?”

And as that was all he would say, the press conference ended shortly afterwards and they all made their escape.

\--

Later, having reconvened at Niki’s rented house, he stared at James in utter amazement.

“I honestly don’t know what to say. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Shut them up didn’t it?” James retorted cheerfully, opening the champagne he’d brought with him from the track and nearly putting the cork through the window. 

“The Austrian press will crucify you for this,” Niki observed, hastily handing him a tea towel and holding up two glasses. 

“No offence to your fellow countrymen Niki, but I don’t give a flying fuck what the Austrian press say about me,” James told him as he poured. “They’ve always been so far up your arse it’s a wonder they’ve not been accused of having an affair with you themselves.”

Niki gave a hiccup of laughter, and James smiled at him, holding up his glass to clink it against Niki’s. 

“Here’s to your salvaged reputation, and a bit more tarnishing of mine.”

\--

By the time the Belgian Grand Prix rolled around two weeks later, most of the press attention had been successfully diverted by Ferrari managing to get James’ victory in Spain overturned on a technicality, handing Niki the points. 

Whilst furious in public, James met Niki in private and grudgingly conceded that it had at least effectively taken the heat off him. Niki was hotly embarrassed by his team’s manoeuvring, particularly as he suspected they’d done it for exactly those reasons, but James waved away his apologies, promising he didn’t hold Niki responsible.

Life went on, and despite the fact the two teams continued to swipe and feint at each other, James and Niki somehow managed to remain firm friends in the midst of it all.

\--

July, 1976.

The British weather at Brands Hatch was for once blazing hot, and after a triumphant victory James had changed thankfully out of his overalls into cut-off shorts that left virtually nothing to the imagination. Having previously arranged to have dinner with Niki, James was hanging around the garage waiting for him and signing autographs when Bubbles Horsley showed up.

After congratulating James effusively on his win, he invited him out for a celebratory meal.

“Sorry mate, I promised Niki. Next time, yeah?”

Bubbles stared at him. “You’re going out with Lauda?” 

James laughed. “Could you maybe rephrase that? But yes, we’re having dinner.”

“You want to be careful.” Horsley had been in on the Gantreich sting so knew the truth, but as the rest of the world had dropped the story weeks ago, James was puzzled.

“Why, what do you mean?”

“Well – hanging round with him. Particularly dressed like that.” 

James stared at him. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Well, aren’t you worried he might – you know?”

“No, I don’t know. Might what?”

“Fancy you.”

James gave an incredulous laugh. “Well, why shouldn’t he? Everybody else does. Jealousy’s a terrible thing Bubbles my old son.” He patted him on the cheek, not quite hard enough to count as a slap, but close.

Bubbles clearly would have said more, but the sound of a politely cleared throat made them both turn and find with some consternation that Niki was standing in the entrance.

“Niki! Ready?” called James, wondering guiltily how long he’d been there. He marched across and deliberately slung an arm around his shoulders, keeping it there until they were almost at his car.

“I won’t be offended, if you’d rather not be seen with me,” Niki said quietly, once they were out of earshot.

James glanced at him, and winced. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“Fuck. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for what other people say,” Niki told him. “But neither do I want to make things difficult for you.”

“You’re not. Come on, I’m famished. Let’s eat.”

\--

A few hours later they were contentedly full of good food, seated next to each other in a discreet booth at James’ favourite restaurant.

“So do you?” James asked, apropos of nothing. He was pleasantly drunk by now, and his mind was wandering.

“Do I what?” asked Niki, confused. 

“Fancy me.” James leaned his head back on the seat and gave him a puppydog smile.

Niki laughed. “That’s not a question I can answer, is it?”

“Why not?”

“If I say no you will be offended. If I say yes, you will be uncomfortable.”

“No I won’t.”

“James, you’re my friend. I don’t think of you in that way.”

“Why, what’s wrong with me?”

Niki gave another helpless laugh. “Do you _want_ me to fancy you?” he asked. “Is that it? Fine, you are a very attractive man. Is that better?”

James just smiled happily at him. He didn’t really know what had prompted the question, it hadn’t even occurred to him until Horsley had brought it up.

“I’ve had propositions before, you know.” 

“From men?” Niki asked curiously. 

“Mmn.” James drained his glass, and reached for the bottle. “I mean, they were all very polite about it, when I said I wasn’t interested.” He topped up Niki’s glass, then refilled his own. “It’s never bothered me, really. I mean – I’ve been turned down by women enough times myself. I always figure – you see someone you like, it doesn’t hurt to ask. The worse that can happen is they tell you to fuck off. And there’s always the possibility they might say yes. Why should I begrudge other people the same M.O.?”

“M.O.?” Niki frowned.

James opened his mouth then realised he was too drunk to remember what it stood for. “Approach,” he explained, waving his glass about and nearly emptying it in Niki’s lap. “Strategy.”

“Ah.” Niki nodded, watching James getting steadily drunker with mild amusement. 

“Can I ask an impertinent question?” 

“I imagine you can.”

“When you – you know. Sleep with a man. Is it really – like – arse stuff?”

Niki nearly choked on his drink. “Yes,” he said finally, blinking slightly but recognising that James seemed to be asking from a position of genuine curiosity rather than prurient disgust. “Sometimes.” 

“So do you – you know. Are you – giving? Or taking? As it were.” James made a face, realising that he wasn’t expressing himself quite how he wanted to, but tying himself up in knots trying to work out how to phrase it without being insulting. 

Niki stared at him, then sighed. “I – have been in both situations,” he said finally, taking a large gulp of his own wine to hide the blush he suspected was creeping over his cheeks.

“Really?” James sat up, looking interested now that Niki seemed willing to talk about it. “It’s not like – you always – I mean – you don’t – ” 

“It depends who you’re with,” Niki elaborated, coming to his rescue. “What they like. What you like. I like both ways. Not everybody does. Do all women you sleep with like the same things?”

“Well, no. But I can generally hazard a guess beforehand which one of us is going to be putting it into the other.”

Niki gave him a mischievous smile. “How boring.” 

James threw his head back and laughed. 

\--

August, 1976.

Having gone straight from the airport into a celebratory bender after wining the German Grand Prix it was a hungover but jubilant James Hunt who answered the door in London the next morning to find an uncharacteristically sombre-looking Horsley on his doorstep.

"Bubbles! Come to congratulate me? I tell you, Niki must have been sick as a dog when he heard I won in his absence."

"You haven't heard?"

"What?" James stopped, staring at his friend with a confusion that was slowly turning into cold dread at his expression. "Heard what?"

"About Niki."

"What about him?" Becoming more alarmed by the second, James had to restrain himself from shaking the details out of him. "For God's sake, what?"

"It's not looking good."

"What are you talking about?" The crash had been hideous, but James had taken comfort from the fact that Niki had reportedly been conscious and communicating when he'd been airlifted out, and although the atmosphere at the track had been muted no one had left expecting the worst.

"It was on the news. Apparently he lapsed into a coma when they got him to the hospital." Bubbles shook his head grimly. He might never have been all that friendly with Niki but tragedies of this kind shook the whole racing community. "I'm sorry James. They don't hold out much hope that he'll regain consciousness."

"No. No, that can't be right. Not Niki. There must be a mistake."

Bubbles gave him a sympathetic look, but shook his head. "There’s talk of the last rites."

James only just made it to the toilet before violently losing the fried breakfast that had seemed like such a good idea at the time. 

\--

The next few days were agony. James couldn't contemplate a world without Niki in it, the man had been a presence in his life almost as long as he'd been racing. The news and pictures coming out of Austria were horrific, but as the days scraped past and Niki was somehow still hanging on, James began to take heart that he might make it after all - although in what condition, nobody could say.

Footage of the race had at least confirmed nobody else had been involved in the collision, and while this was a relief on one hand James couldn't help thinking back to the conversation they'd once had. 

_"I might go out there and hit a wall and all of this will become academic."_

Had Niki tempted fate saying that - or had Niki had a hand in what happened himself? That was the question that James couldn't get out of his head, and that kept him awake at night. Niki had promised he hadn't been considering it, but James was prone to fits of the blackest depression himself and knew how your own mind could turn traitor. 

While James had been determined not to let the revelations about Niki's sexuality change the way he acted around him, he found himself wondering whether he'd over-compensated and come across as dismissive. Whether Niki would have _liked_ to talk about things. James realised he had no idea how many other friends of Niki's knew the truth, and found himself facing the possibility that he was the only one. 

He was sitting in a pub drowning his sorrows when a girl came up to him and sat opposite.

He summoned a smile, but could find no enthusiasm for what she might be offering.

"Sorry, I'm not really in the mood for company right now."

"You're James Hunt aren't you? The racing driver?"

"Yes, but - "

"I'm Nicky." She smiled at him hopefully, but it was the name that hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Nicky?" He swallowed thickly. 

"You look like you need cheering up."

Two hours later they were in bed, James groaning out her name along with his climax. 

"Nicky, oh Nicky." Closing his eyes, letting it sweep him away. "Niki."

\--

The dawning realisation that he might actually have feelings for Niki was a confusing one, and James initially dealt with it by firmly ignoring them. 

This didn't stop him worrying about the man, and repeated phone calls to Niki's Vienna number produced no reply, until one night it was finally answered.

"Hallo?"

James froze. "Niki?" He mostly been hoping to catch a member of Niki's family, having assumed the man himself to be still in an intensive care unit somewhere.

"Ja. James? Is that you?"

"Yes." James had to shake himself. "Are you - God, how are you?" He found himself smiling in weak relief. "It's good to hear your voice," he blurted unguardedly.

"Yours too." Niki sounded like he was smiling. "I am - still here. Somehow."

"Well, thank God for that," James said fervently. "You gave us all quite the shock."

"Yes. Sorry," Niki sounded dryly amused, and James felt such overwhelming relief that Niki was still Niki that his knees buckled and he had to sit down. 

"It's no good you know," James complained. "Going to such lengths to have a rest halfway through the season. You might be miles ahead, but complacency's no good, I'm catching you up."

Niki laughed but it turned into a coughing fit and James immediately felt guilty. All the reports had mentioned just how screwed Niki's lungs had been. 

"Sorry, I'm making you cough. Are you even supposed to be talking?"

"Frankly I am glad of someone to talk to," Niki said, sounding wrecked and hoarse but increasingly cheerful, "who is not lamenting how awful I look or telling me I should be resting."

"Well, if it's insensitivity you want, I'm your man." James frowned. "How _do_ you look? Is it bad?"

Niki hesitated. "I lost most of the skin on the top half of my face and head," he said eventually. "It will scar. They say it will look better with time, but - " Another pause. "I'm afraid it will not."

"Well on the plus side you were no oil painting to begin with. Probably no-one will notice."

Niki started laughing again but once more this devolved into a coughing fit, and James winced.

"Shit, sorry, look I should leave you in peace."

"No. Please. Don't go," Niki protested, once he could speak again. "You talk, I'll listen. You like that, huh? Tell me - " he broke off, wheezing. "Tell me everything I am missing."

So James curled up in the chair and related the gossip and minutiae of the races Niki had missed, and Niki, who'd been feeling rather battered and forlorn, found listening to him ramble on was the best tonic he'd received so far.

When James ran out of slanderous commentary on their fellow teams and colleagues he was startled to find almost an hour had gone by and was worried he'd been wearing Niki out. He rang off, but with a promise to call again soon. 

Over the next few days they spoke often, and despite the fact Niki declared he was intending to come back to the circuit as quickly as possible, James didn't expect it to be any time soon and Niki didn't commit himself, in case he found that when it came down to it he couldn't do it.

It therefore came as a surprise to James to hear the rumour racing around the paddock at Monza that Niki had been seen on site.

"Niki? Here?" He stared at his team mate Mass in surprise. "Well, I'm glad he's feeling better. Has he come to watch me win?" he asked with a grin.

"No, they're saying he's racing."

Incredulous, James was about to go in search of him when Niki himself walked in the door.

James' cry of greeting died in his throat as he took in the swathe of bandages and the ruined skin.

"Christ."

"Not quite." Niki half-smiled, looking self-conscious. "Took me a bit longer than three days." 

He seemed apprehensive of James' reaction, and James was reminded of the moment in Madrid when he'd confessed his sexuality to him. 

James stepped forward and without a word just wrapped his arms around Niki and hugged him tight. For a moment that seemed too brief and at the same time to last an eternity they simply stood there in each other's arms, saying nothing.

Then James pulled back and looked Niki up and down, taking in his overalls and sniffing. 

"It's true then, you're actually racing you mad bastard?"

"Uh huh." 

James shook his head slowly. "Why do we do this to ourselves?" he laughed. "Suckers for punishment."

Niki relaxed. He'd had to fight nearly everyone to get here, including his own team, and for James to simply take it at face value and accept that it was something he needed to do meant more than he could say.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he turned to go, only for James to call after him quietly. 

"Niki."

He turned, and James hesitated. "It's good to see you back."

Niki gave a brief, grateful nod. "It's good to be back."

Part of him wanted to confide in James exactly how bowel-wateringly scared he was at the thought of doing this, but however much he liked and trusted him, there was still the knowledge that the following day he would be racing against him - and that it was James, crucially, that he needed to beat. Handing him his weakness on a plate after struggling so hard to get here would be insane. 

Also, there was the fact that if he was out there racing wheel to wheel with him as was likely, James needed to be able to trust _him_ \- not be worrying about whether Niki might suddenly make an erratic move. It was best for all concerned if everyone believed Niki to be his normal stoical self, unruffled and calm at the prospect of getting back behind the wheel a mere six weeks after nearly dying. 

If he faked it well enough, he thought, maybe he'd come to believe it too.

\--

After the race, whilst still keeping quiet on exactly how petrified he'd been, Niki did finally admit to James the thing he really wanted was to escape from the constant press attention, so James promptly took charge and whisked him off to his villa near Marbella. 

“Do you want to talk?” James offered on their first night there, determined to be a better friend. “About what happened to you, I mean?”

Niki shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t remember what happened. I only remember afterwards. The hospital. The pain. But the accident itself? Nothing. I’ve tried. I thought maybe – it was too bad, and I didn’t want to remember. But now I just think it’s not there.”

“Nobody hit you,” James said carefully. 

“No, they told me that. I don’t know, maybe something gave way. Or it was the rain.” Niki poked James in the leg. “I was trying to catch you up. It’s your fault.” He gave James a wicked smile and James burst out laughing in sudden relief. 

Niki looked at him shrewdly, and suddenly guessed what he’d been thinking. “It was an accident,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what went wrong, but I know I didn’t make it happen, James. If I had wanted to die, afterwards – I think I could have. But I have been fighting, all the way. I won’t give up. For any reason.”

James wrapped an arm around him and gave him a squeeze. “Good,” he said, voice suspiciously tight. “You’d better bloody not.” 

They spent the best part of a week there together, doing little other than talking and eating. Niki slept a lot, and whilst his recuperation was astonishing he clearly wasn't quite his normal self yet. James found he felt ridiculously protective towards him, and was forced to confront his carefully buried feelings once more. 

Watching Niki sleeping on the couch one afternoon James tried to rationalise it and couldn't. It was hardly lust, Niki looked like he'd been through a car compactor. And he didn't feel like this about any other men. It was just Niki, somehow, under his skin.

It never once occurred to him to tell Niki any of this. James, who'd never hesitated in throwing himself at any woman he halfway fancied, found when it came to Niki he had no idea what to do about it. And even if he had – the idea of embarking on a physical relationship with another man was one he wasn't quite sure he was ready for, or ever would be. 

The last problem was that Niki knew him so well - too well - and James found it hard to believe Niki would ever be interested in him. He'd certainly shown no signs of it, and lately James had found himself almost hopefully looking out for it. 

Maybe if he dropped a few hints, James thought. If Niki _was_ interested, he’d need to know that James was possibly up for it. But he’d have to be subtle.

\--

Canada, 3rd October, 1976.

The night after the race Niki had been about to go to bed when there came a scrabbling at his hotel room door. This was followed by a certain amount of bumping and swearing that sounded like someone was unsuccessfully trying to break in.

Upon opening the door an extremely drunk James Hunt promptly fell into him, catching himself just in time by grabbing Niki's arm and clawing his way upright. 

"Niki." James blinked at him, sounding surprised. "What you doing in my room?"

"This isn't your room," Niki pointed out. "It's my room."

"Nah's definitely mine." James let go of him and stumbled towards the bed, collapsing in a heap onto it.

Niki sighed, and closed the door. "James. This is my room you idiot. You can't sleep here."

"Mine," James mumbled stubbornly, and Niki prised the room key out of his hand to look at the fob.

"This says your room is on the third floor," Niki told him. "We are currently only on the second. Which is why this key is not working in my door."

James groaned. "I can't walk up any more stairs. I'll just have to sleep here."

"You can't." 

"Why not?" 

"Where am I going to sleep?"

James rolled over onto his back and looked up at him, trying to blow the hair out of his face. Niki tried hard not to find it adorable. 

"Well, there's plenty of room." James patted the bed next to him and Niki sat down with a sigh of resignation. 

"What am I going to do with you?"

James grinned. "What would you like to do with me?" Niki looked away, flushing, and James sat up. "Give us a kiss."

"What?" Niki gave him a startled look, then laughed. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not. I'm serious." James leaned in and rested his chin on Niki's shoulder, draping an arm around him. 

"You're not serious, you're drunk," Niki said sternly. "And you don't want to kiss me."

"Do." James nuzzled his cheek, and Niki batted him away, smiling.

"Get off!"

"Go on Niki. Gimme kiss," James slurred. "Don't tell me you don't want to."

Niki hesitated. He did want to, that was the problem, but at the same time he didn't want to risk screwing up their friendship, and James was clearly far too drunk to be responsible for his own decisions right now.

"You should sleep this off," Niki said firmly. "If you still want to kiss me in the morning, then we can–"

He didn't get any further, because James had taken matters into his own hands and planted a heavy kiss on his mouth.

Niki froze. James pulled back a little and gazed at him with sleepy eyes. "Kiss me Niki," he wheedled. "Don't you want to know what it'd be like? I do." He leaned in again, pecking at Niki's lips until despite himself Niki started to respond.

James made a noise in his throat, half triumph and half sheer undisguised want and Niki was lost. He gave in and pulled James closer, kissing him long and deep and hungrily. 

James kissed back with every sign of enthusiasm, and Niki's fears that he would suddenly come to his senses gradually faded. When they finally pulled apart, James gave him a drunken smile of cat-like contentment, kissed him again, just once, lightly, as if to promise that he'd been sincere, then lay down where he was and promptly fell fast asleep still fully clothed.

"Oh James," Niki whispered, gazing down at him with a mixture of longing, affection and fear of what the morning would bring. 

\--

James didn't stir again all night, and in the morning Niki lost his nerve and went down to breakfast leaving him rolled up in the blankets.

He'd been there perhaps half an hour when James appeared in the dining room, looking hungover and bleary. He spotted Niki and started to walk over, checked momentarily, then kept coming, sprawling into the seat opposite him.

"Morning," James mumbled, looking rather green. He looked round, seemed to estimate the distance to the breakfast buffet was too far to cope with and looked covetously at the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in front of Niki. "You drinking that?"

Niki pushed it across the table without a word, and James gave him a look of guilty gratitude. "Thanks. You're a life saver."

"Feeling rough, huh?" Niki ventured, relieved they were speaking, although unsure if they were pretending the previous night hadn't happened, or if James actually didn't remember.

"I'm never drinking again," James groaned, then smirked. "Not until lunchtime, at least."

He toyed with the glass for a while, then shot Niki a look from under lowered lashes. "Did I kiss you last night?" he asked in an undertone. 

Niki forced himself to meet James' eyes. "Which answer would give you the most peace of mind?" he asked lightly. 

"Oh God. I did then." James winced.

"You don't remember?" 

"I wasn't sure if I'd dreamt it or not," James admitted.

"Do you often dream about kissing me?" Niki couldn't resist teasing.

"I refuse to answer that, on the grounds I might incriminate myself," came the surprising answer. "Sorry. Was I a massive pest?"

"No." Niki shook his head with a slight smile. "You were just drunk, as usual. And - curious, I think."

"It was just kissing, right?" James clarified cautiously. "I mean - I appreciate that I was fully dressed this morning, but I also couldn't help noticing I was in your bed."

"What, you think if I'd ravished you I would have bothered to dress you again afterwards?"

James laughed, then winced, rubbing his temples ruefully and holding the cold glass against his forehead. "You might've. It might be an Austrian thing."

Niki laughed too then, the snakes of worry in his gut finally melting away with the realisation that James really wasn't bothered.

James stretched out lower in his seat, his foot nudging Niki's under the table. "We okay?" he murmured more seriously. Niki looked up, surprised, and nodded.

"Of course."

"Good." James nodded back. "I don't tend to think too hard about things," he added apologetically. "I just do what I want, and it never occurs to me to wonder if the other person wants it too."

"I have no complaints," Niki said softly, and James smiled. 

"I'll bear that in mind."

\--

Watkins Glen, a week later.

On the morning of the race Niki marched into James’ room through the interconnecting door, but his plan to wake him up backfired slightly at the discovery James was lying on top of the bedclothes, stark naked.

“Good morning Ja– oh for God’s sake.” Niki spun away to stare out of the window instead.

James sat up and frowned at him. “What time is it?”

“Time you were dressed,” said Niki pointedly.

“I was too hot.” James squinted at the clock and wasn’t best pleased to see how early it was. He then realised Niki was still rigidly refusing to turn round, and grinned. “Hey, Niki.”

“What?”

“Look at me.” 

Niki reluctantly turned away from the window, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on James’ face.

James’ grin winded. “You can look at me properly if you want, you know.”

“Why would I want?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought you might.” He stretched languidly, and Niki couldn’t stop his eyes flicking involuntarily down the length of James’ body. James caught the look and cackled. “Gotcha.” He rolled onto his front and Niki finally came to perch on the edge of the bed. James’ bare arse was easier to cope with than the full frontal, if still rather distracting.

“Why would you even want me to look at you?” Niki asked grumpily, rolling his eyes. But he thought he knew the answer. James liked – needed even – to be admired. He needed approval in a way Niki never had, but Niki understood the impulse behind it, and he was glad that James was easy enough in his company to tease him like this.

“Distraction technique,” James said firmly, having realised Niki clearly wasn’t about to pounce on him and feeling mildly embarrassed about the whole thing. He sat up and plonked a pillow over his groin in deference to Niki’s finer feelings. “You’ll be zoning in on the finish line when the mental image of my meat and two veg’ll pop into your head, put you right off and let me sail past.”

“Idiot,” Niki said, trying not to laugh and failing. “Get dressed, and come down to breakfast. I have a championship to win.”

\--

Mount Fuji, 24th October, 1976.

Looking back, Japan, for James, was a blur of disjointed, rain-streaked images. He was convinced by now that Niki wasn’t remotely romantically or sexually interested in him, and was consequently suffering even more emotional turmoil than ever. 

He’d somehow been harbouring the half-formed thought that they could have some kind of drunken one night stand and that it would be cathartic for both of them. That he could move on. But repeatedly throwing himself at Niki had resulted in nothing more than the ususal detached coolness from the Austrian, and James was forced to concede that Niki wasn’t interested. This in turn made him by turns indignant, angry and finally achingly sad as he confronted the truth – that deep down he actually wanted more from Niki than a night of meaningless sex, and that he’d never even have that.

The rain fell in sheets, and they sheltered by the track together, laughing despite the conditions, until it became apparent they would still be made to race.

From across the briefing room James watched Niki’s face turn stony, and wanted to go to him. He couldn’t of course, could do nothing more than this time add his voice to the protests, but despite all the arguments they were marched off to the pits like so many condemned soldiers.

On the track, they looked at each other, just once. James felt his stomach clench with something more than nerves, and then there was no time for thinking, for feeling, for anything other than trying to keep the car under control.

One lap. Fighting the car James could see virtually nothing and knew it would be worse for those behind, having to contend with his spray as well as the rain. He couldn’t see Niki, couldn’t see anyone, could barely see the track.

Second lap. Third. James flashed past the pitlane and caught the message held out on the board for him.

_Niki out._

In that moment James felt like he was made of ice. It meant, if he could just hold on to the end, that the championship was within his grasp. But what did it mean for Niki? Those two terse words could cover a multitude of sins. Had Niki broken down? Had he _crashed_? Please, God, not again, but that was the cold fear in James’ gut. It never occurred to him for a second that Niki might simply have walked away from it all, seeing it for the madness it was.

All he could do was hang on to the bitter end, and if the conditions were potentially lethal, in that moment James knew that if anything had happened to Niki then he didn’t care what happened to him. He would go for broke, and damn the consequences.

Afterwards, victorious even in defeat James felt numb. Couldn’t properly process the fact he was World Champion, or that Niki had effectively handed it to him. He was furious with those saying Niki had been cowardly, and wanted nothing more than to find his friend and tell him he understood, tell him how brave James thought he’d been to do that, tell him – tell him everything.

But Niki, it transpired, had already gone. Left the track, left the country. Left James.

He’d wanted to celebrate with Niki of all people, had wanted to share, as far as he could, what he knew they had both deserved. This felt like a final slap in the face, and rather than acknowledge the fact that he’d never told Niki how he felt in the first place or consider how he might be feeling right now, James dealt with it by slamming the door on his feelings, plastering on a smile and going off to get utterly black-out drunk.

The binge continued, on and off, for weeks. Drink, drugs, women – the days passed in a haze, and James felt only more and more miserable. His behaviour meant the press were shredding him in what should have been his finest hour, and he didn’t even care.

\--

December, 1976.

James was swallowing painkillers dry and wondering if a mid-morning beer would cure the shakes in his hand when somebody knocked on the door.

He fumbled with the security chain and finally dragged it open – and stared.

“Niki?” 

“Hallo James.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was in London. I thought I would drop by.” Niki looked him over critically, judging that James would probably react badly if he told him the truth – that he’d become increasingly worried by the newspaper stories and realised James’ spiralling behaviour was not that of a party lifestyle being lived to the limit, but a cry for help.

“Can I come in?” Niki asked, after James had done nothing more than stand there blinking stupidly at him for what felt like an awkwardly long time.

“Uh – yes. Yes, I – ” James scrubbed a hand through dirty hair, seemingly realising for the first time how dishevelled he was. “Place is a bit of a tip I’m afraid.”

Niki picked his way fastidiously though the debris of empty bottles, discarded takeaway cartons and overflowing ashtrays to throw open the window before sitting next to James on the couch.

“James, I have to say something, and I hope you will take it in the spirit it is meant. You can’t continue like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” Niki gestured around irritably. “You’re living like an animal. And behaving like a yob.” 

“What do you care?” James half snarled. “You don’t care what happens to me.”

Niki stared at him, taken aback. He’d been prepared for James to be defensive, but not for this level of angry bitterness.

“Of course I care. You’re my friend.” More concerned than ever, not to mention a little hurt, Niki softened his tone. “Whatever gave you the idea I don’t care about you?”

“Oh well. As a _friend_.” James imbued the word with such disgust that Niki was stricken – but then a sudden, dangerous thought occurred to him.

“Do you not want to be friends then?” he asked carefully. James hung his head so miserably at that, that Niki wondered if his suspicion could possibly be right. “James – forgive me if I’m getting this wrong – are you saying you want to be more than friends?”

James gave him such a guilty look then, that Niki blinked. “James?” he coaxed. 

“I never said that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Niki conceded. “So how am I supposed to know if it’s what you’re thinking? Or,” he added thoughtfully, “perhaps you have been saying it, and I just haven’t been listening properly.”

He moved closer, and risked resting a hand on James’ arm. “Tell me what you’re thinking, James. Please?”

James shook his head, but it was heavy with despair now rather than denial. “I can’t.”

Niki leaned closer, resting their shoulders together. “Alright. If you can’t tell me - can you show me?”

James looked up and they stared at each other, just inches apart. Then James took in a sharp breath that was more than half sob, and lunged forward to press an unsteady kiss to Niki’s lips.

Niki reached out, not quite embracing him but rubbing James’ back soothingly, feeling him shaking under his hand. “This? This is really what you want?” he asked quietly.

James gave a tight nod and a desperate laugh escaped him. “I kissed you before,” he said, almost accusingly.

“You were drunk that night, James. Incredibly drunk. I didn’t think it meant anything.”

“I’m not drunk now.” 

“No. You’re not,” Niki conceded. “That morning in the States,” he ventured. “In your room. Was that-?”

James laughed bitterly. “That was pretty much the point I decided you weren’t interested. There’s me laid out like a prime side of pork and you barely even glanced at me.”

Niki shook his head in disbelief. “I just thought you were-”

“What?”

“Teasing me,” Niki admitted. “I was even glad, that you were comfortable enough with me to do it.”

“You aren’t half a prat Niki.”

“Well what am I supposed to think, when you are busy working your way through the entire cabin crew of British Airways?” Niki demanded, bristling. He didn’t think he’d been _that_ oblivious. “I mean, if it had been some of the men as well that might have given me a clue, but no, with you it is always the women!”

James looked ashamed. “I thought you didn’t want me. I was drowning my sorrows the only way I knew how,” he confessed. “And – look damn it, I never said I knew what I was doing. I can’t imagine feeling this way about any other man, but you–” 

He sighed, frustration and bafflement written all over his face. “It’s just you, Niki. It’s only ever been you.” James looked up despairingly. “Do you think you could ever want me too?”

Niki blinked. “You–” He broke off again, frowning, then bit his lip. “You really don’t know? How I feel?”

James shook his head helplessly. “How do you feel Niki? Do you like me even a little bit?”

“James – I love you,” Niki confessed in an exasperated breath.

They stared at each other, James surprised, Niki nervous.

“Do you? Really?” Astonishment turned quickly to a surging hope. 

“...yes. God knows why, but yes.”

“But – how long have you -?” James asked, startled.

Niki shrugged awkwardly. “Long time.”

“How long’s long though? Weeks? Months?” 

Niki looked shifty. “Try years.”

“What?” James’ voice went up a pitch and Niki shrugged again. “You never said.” It was James’ turn to sound accusing, and Niki gave a despairing laugh.

“No. And I never would have. James, you are my closest friend, I never would have risked that. I always knew, my whole life, that I would have to keep hidden my feelings for people. It’s not easy, but the alternative - ” he gestured helplessly.

“That sounds awful,” James said softly. “How do you stand it?”

“You learn to. You don’t have a choice.”

“So, you like me then?” James said, after a thoughtful pause. 

“Yes James. I like you,” Niki smiled.

“And – I like you, so -” James reached out and took Niki’s hand. “That’s a pretty good start, right?”

“It would seem so, yes.” The whole world would be against them, in fact the world could never know – but despite this Niki smiled, and nodded. He’d never imagined he would ever be able to tell James how he felt, and even if it came to nothing he would always be grateful for this moment.

“So – what happens now?” James asked, when it became apparent that neither of them really knew what to say next. Ordinarily his first move in any relationship was to fall immediately into bed with them, but he was extraordinarily hungover and also couldn’t remember the last time he’d changed his bed sheets. Suddenly it was important to James that Niki didn’t think badly of him, or worse, pityingly. 

“Come back to Austria with me.” Niki stroked his thumb over the back of James’ hand. “You need straightening out.”

James smiled. “There was me rather hoping you’d do the opposite.”

He leaned in again, and despite what had happened between them in Canada this felt oddly like their first proper kiss, unhurried and undemanding and all the sweeter for it.

\--

What with commitments to uphold and tickets to sort out it was a couple of days before James managed to get himself to Austria, and collecting him from the airport Niki saw with an inward sigh that he’d obviously taken something prior to the flight. Whether this had been prompted by nerves or withdrawal it hardly mattered; James was brittle and jittery, and by the time they arrived home he’d managed to provoke Niki into starting three different arguments. 

The evening passed in slightly better humour; James apologised for his earlier behaviour and put his strange mood down to simply being hungry. Niki suspected that had nothing to do with it, but let it pass for the sake of peace. 

As the night wore on though, James’ restlessness increased again. They hadn’t discussed the sleeping arrangements, hadn’t in fact even kissed each other yet, and Niki wondered whether James had had a change of heart. If James was trying to work up the nerve to tell him, that might explain his fidgety mood. 

Niki retreated to the kitchen, ostensibly to clear away the supper things but mostly to give himself some thinking space. He wanted to tell James that if he had changed his mind it was okay, but he wasn’t sure enough that was the case to broach the subject. Frustratingly he also knew that what were perfectly clear thoughts in his head would sound a lot more awkward as soon as he tried to express them in English. 

He was still debating what to do for the best when he was interrupted by James himself, who appeared unexpectedly behind him and put his empty glass down with a loud click. 

“So. Is this the part where you take me to bed?” he asked, much too brightly and Niki caught the strain in his voice.

“We don’t have to, if you’d rather not,” he said quietly. “There is more than one bedroom.”

“Isn’t that the point though? Of me being here, I mean?” James’ gaze was flickering around the room, looking at everything other than Niki.

“James, you’ve had a long day, and a rough few weeks. Why don’t we take it slow? Ease into it.”

“Before you ease it into me you mean?” James’ harsh laugh made Niki wince. 

“We don’t have to do that,” he said quietly. “Not ever, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh for God’s sake Niki, stop being so damned understanding all the time and just have your bloody way with me!” James snapped.

“You mean push you into something you’re not ready for, so you can say to yourself ‘oh no I don’t like this after all’, and walk away?” Niki shot back. 

James actually hesitated. “Is that what I’m doing?” he asked uncertainly. 

“You tell me.” Niki came over and took James’ hands in his. “You say it’s just me you want, that you are not interested in men generally. I’ll be honest James, that worries me a little. That you are – mistaking what you feel for me. For you, love, intimacy, comfort – it all comes bundled up with sex. We can be together without having to sleep together, if you would prefer it.”

To Niki’s surprise James shook his head violently. “No. I want this. All of it.” He stared at him pleadingly. “Don’t let me fuck this up Niki,” he said under his breath. “I know I’m no good at expressing my feelings, hell I’m not much good at having them in the first place, so I think maybe you don’t realise just how much I want this. Want you. In every sense.”

Niki took this in, rather stunned. He hadn’t realised how far he’d already braced himself for disappointment, so to find that James wasn’t backing out after all left him feeling almost dizzy.

“I love you James,” he said sincerely. “If this is really what you want, then I promise I won’t let either of us screw it up.”

James laughed, and this time it was a warmer sound altogether. “Sorry. I’m being an idiot. Ignore me, it’s just–”

“Nerves?”

“Yeah.” James gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ve never done this before. I suppose it only just hit me, you know?”

Niki drew him closer, sliding his arms around James’ waist. “Do you think I would ever hurt you?” 

“Well. No. I suppose not.”

“Good.” Niki kissed him lightly on the lips. “Hold onto that thought. Always.” 

\--

A few days passed. At night they slept in the same bed, but to James’ mixed consternation and relief, Niki wouldn’t let them have sex yet. 

“Let’s just get used to it, huh?” was all he’d say. “To each other.” 

James put up a token protest, but secretly found he rather enjoyed the fact he could snuggle up to Niki in the warm bed with no other demands on him, and slept better than he had for years. 

\--

On the morning of his fifth day there, James woke up feeling subtly different. He’d never really paid much mind to what the constant diet of alcohol topped off by pills, coke and weed might be doing to his libido, but as all Niki would allow him was a single glass of wine with his dinner it had slowly but surely been working its way out of his system. 

He pulled on Niki’s robe, which came to his knees and just below his elbows, and wandered out to find him.

Niki was chopping fruit in the kitchen, and James snuck up behind him, wound his arms around Niki’s waist and kissed him on the side of the neck.

“You know a man could starve on your idea of breakfast.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmn.” James kissed him again on the other side of his neck and Niki laughed, wiping his hands and turning round. James triumphantly pinned him up against the counter and kissed him properly. 

“Is that my dressing gown?” 

James looked down. His cock was sticking out of the badly tied folds, already at half-mast.

“It’s mine now. You might not want it back.” James kissed him again, then looked at him enquiringly. “Have you ever been fucked on a kitchen table before?”

Niki snorted. “Someone’s frisky this morning.”

At this James bent, and sliding his hands under Niki’s buttocks he picked him up bodily, ignoring Niki’s shout of alarmed laughter to carry him into the bedroom, where he dropped him on the bed and crawled over him.

“Teach me Niki,” he murmured. “Forget about what I want for a minute. Show me what you like.”

Niki cradled James’ face between his hands and kissed him. “You’re sure?”

“I’m ready.” James smiled down at him. “I really am.”

As they kissed again James covered Niki’s body with his own, but as soon as he settled his weight on him, Niki gave an involuntary yelp.

“Niki? What’d I do?” James asked, freezing in place.

Niki looked embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m fine. It’s just – still healing some places, you know?”

“Oh, fuck.” James quickly rolled off him again, horrified and apologetic. He’d got used to Niki’s facial scars, but he’d completely forgotten that not all his injuries had been visible – there’d been broken ribs and a broken collarbone as well.

“It’s okay.” Niki reached out to him. “Come here.”

“Niki, how much fucking pain have you been in that you haven’t told anyone about?”

Niki shrugged. “A little. A lot. It varies. It’s mostly better now. It’s been months.”

“And by mostly you mean...?”

“I mean come back here and kiss me.” Niki smiled. “You can’t fix the pain, but you can make me forget about it.”

James wriggled closer again and took Niki gingerly into his arms.

“I’m not made of china,” Niki protested, after a few minutes of overly careful kissing.

“No, you’re made of flesh and blood which is far more fragile,” James retorted, then laughed at himself. “God, listen to me. I’ll be forbidding you to leave the house next.”

“You’ll just have to persuade me to stay in bed,” Niki murmured. “However will you manage that?”

James smiled, but he still looked worried, and now was wondering if Niki’s reluctance to sleep with him had had more to do with his own injuries. 

“Would you rather we didn’t?” James asked. “Have sex I mean?”

“Are you kidding me? No. If you want this then so do I. I told you, I’m mostly healed. Is just a little muscle pain sometimes, that’s all.”

Niki’s indignation made James laugh again, and he gathered him back into his arms. “Alright. I’m convinced. Ish.”

“Then I must be more convincing.” Niki reached out to untie the robe James was still wearing. He pushed the folds aside and leaned down to kiss his way up James’ chest.

“You’re going the wrong way Lauda,” James grinned. “No wonder you lost.”

Niki nipped him sharply, making James yelp and then laugh as Niki reversed direction and worked his way unhurriedly back down his body. By this point James was as stiff as a board but Niki skirted his cock at first, instead licking and kissing his way down the inside of James’ thighs.

James groaned, taken by surprise at how good it felt. “Niki,” he called hoarsely. “You’re wearing too many clothes man. Take them off.”

Niki obliged, stripping quickly and lying back down beside him. They might not have had sex yet but there’d been plenty of kissing and affection, and the several nights spent sleeping next to each other meant they’d lost their initial self-consciousness when it came to each other’s bodies. 

There was certainly no hesitancy to either of them now, as Niki resumed his earlier position and finally took James into his mouth. James groaned, bucking his hips approvingly as Niki sucked down on him.

When Niki finally came up for air, lips swollen and spit-slick, James captured his mouth and kissed him deeply. 

“Use me Niki,” he begged. “Do whatever you want with me.”

Niki studied him for a moment, gauged he was sincere, and reached across to the bedside drawer. James watched him take out a packet of condoms and another containing sachets of lube and pulled himself into a sitting position against the headboard, watching as Niki tore open a condom. He was still nervous, but also by now so turned on he was entirely up for whatever Niki intended.

To his surprise, Niki reached out and took hold of his cock, stroking him encouragingly a couple of times before proceeding to roll the condom onto James rather than himself. James only realised how startled he must have looked when Niki glanced up at him and laughed.

“This is okay?”

“Yes.” It came out hoarsely, and James cleared his throat. “Yes. God yes.” He nodded vigorously, a little relieved that despite his willingness they apparently weren’t doing it the other way round yet. 

Niki simply nodded, and reached for the lube. Speechless, James watched as Niki palmed it liberally over his erection and then transferred his wet fingers between his own legs.

“Fuck, Niki,” James whispered, as Niki wiped his hands clean on his discarded pants and then came to kneel astride James’ thighs.

“Still okay to do this?” Niki checked, and James swallowed. 

“Fuck yes.”

Niki snorted slightly at the way James was helplessly prefacing everything with fuck, and with one hand on the bedhead to steady himself, he positioned himself over James’ straining cock.

James held his breath as Niki lowered himself, watching his face intently. He’d expected to see a trace of pain, but Niki looked transported, lips parted and eyes fluttering closed. James couldn’t help but let out a groan of satisfaction as his cock slid smoothly into the tight heat of Niki’s body. 

Buried to the balls, James tried not to give in to instinct and immediately snap his hips up to start fucking him in earnest – Niki was very much in charge here, and he forced himself to wait for permission. 

Niki transferred his grip from the bed-frame to James’ shoulders and opened his eyes again. James smiled up at him. “You look damn good on my cock,” he said conversationally. “I feel you should know this.”

This got a breathless laugh out of Niki, and James grinned. Feeling bolder, he reached up for the first time to let his hands run over Niki’s body. This earned him another murmur of approval, and then Niki started moving, pushing himself up and down to fuck himself wantonly on James’ cock.

James caught on quickly and started thrusting up into him, and the filthy moan this surprised out of Niki nearly made him come there and then. There was a minute or so while they tried to co-ordinate two different rhythms, then suddenly their timing fell into place and they went for it. 

With James now taking half the strain, Niki could lean forward enough to kiss him. They clung to each other, snatching breaths between increasingly frantic kisses as both men quickly abandoned any ideas they might have had of making this last or taking it slowly. 

James worked a hand in between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around Niki’s cock, jerking him off with a fast and dirty wrist action that he was fond of himself when particularly desperate to come. He was close himself, ridiculously so, and guessed Niki must be too.

“Is there an etiquette to this?” James asked, and Niki managed a gasping laugh.

“To what?”

“Who comes first. I mean – normally I’d try not to. But I figured this might be different, and if we’re both trying to hold out we might end up accidentally killing each other, or exploding or something.”

Niki gave a silent laugh, shoulders shaking, and leaned down to kiss him. “Come for me James,” he whispered with a smile. “Come for me.”

“Fuck.” Somewhat to his own embarrassment James promptly did as he was told, the tickle of Niki’s warm breath against his neck enough to push him over the edge and for a moment he saw stars. 

Niki’s cock pulsed in his hand, and it took James a second to connect the sudden sliding wetness under his fingers with the way Niki’s body was clenching so incredibly around him. Spent, Niki collapsed into James’ arms and he held him up, kissing him wherever he could reach. 

When they’d both gathered themselves, James helped Niki climb off him again and they subsided into a messy tangle of limbs, holding each other close.

“So. Gut?” James enquired, after a while.

Niki smiled broadly at James attempting German, however jokingly. “Sehr gut.” 

“Okay, I’m lost already,” James admitted with a laugh.

“Very,” Niki clarified.

“Ah. Then yes, sehr gut.” James kissed him, amused. “Have you really wanted to do this for years?” he asked, as they lay sleepily in each other’s arms. “With me, I mean. Not just generally.”

“Yes.”

James nodded, digesting this. “Guess it took me a little to longer to realise how I felt, eh?”

“When did you realise?” Niki asked curiously. “When you found out about me?”

James shook his head. “When I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, and pressed a gentle kiss to the livid scarring on Niki’s forehead. 

Niki kissed him back shakily on the lips, and this turned into an increasingly passionate embrace until they finally lay back again, panting for breath.

“Happy?” James murmured, and Niki nodded. 

“I never thought I’d be able to have this,” he admitted, then added cautiously, “but we will have to be careful, you know.” It came as second nature to Niki to keep his private life hidden, but James tended to live his via the tabloids.

“I know.” James looked cagey. “Maybe just the occasional girl might be in order. You know, keep people distracted.” To his consternation, Niki laughed loudly. It hadn’t been quite the reaction he was expecting.

“Since when has there been anything occasional about your women?”

“Well. You know.” James looked indignant, but at the same time could hardly defend himself. “If we’re…?”

“James, you were married and it barely slowed you down,” Niki pointed out.

“Well, yes,” James conceded, then realised Niki didn’t seem to be objecting. “You don’t mind?” he asked in surprise.

Niki shook his head. “I want you to be happy, not trying to be something you’re not. Or feeling you have to hide things from me, for that matter. As long as you want me as well, I’m happy,” he promised, and James finally realised that Niki knowing him inside out was actually an advantage, not a downside.

“I love you Niki,” he breathed, kissing him slowly. 

“I love you too.” Niki wound his arms around James’ neck and hugged him close.

They drowsed for a little while longer, but having satisfied one appetite James had worked up another, and eventually he sat up.

“Right, how about I show you how to make a decent breakfast?”

“I thought sex was your idea of breakfast,” Niki teased. 

“Absolutely.” James grinned at him. “But if you’re going to teach me how to do what you just did, I’m going to need some fuel on board. And I’m talking bacon, not fucking yoghurt.”

That made Niki sit up as well. “You really want to?”

James nodded. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure at first,” he said. “But you seemed to be enjoying it well enough?”

“When it’s good, it’s like nothing else,” Niki said softly, then smiled. “And for someone who likes sex as much as you?” He ran a fingertip up the inside of James’ thigh, making him shiver. “Oh yes. I think you’ll take to it.”

\--


End file.
